


Delicate Hearts

by HoshisamaValmor (HannibalCatharsis)



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Character Study, Dysfunctional Family, Father-Son Relationship, Pre-Canon, ish ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27875169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HannibalCatharsis/pseuds/HoshisamaValmor
Summary: 'Touching' had always been a delicate subject. Holding, hugging. That doesn't mean Rufus didn't think about it as he was growing up, and how he might've wanted it.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Delicate Hearts

Touching had always been a delicate subject. Whether addressing the wider, generic act of physical touch, or the subliminary and implied expressions of affection that might be associated with touching, like a hug. It was the type of thing - the type of behaviour - that was innately ignored, surpressed, sneered upon, and therefore not even worth losing a second think about. Doing so would only be summarized as a fault, a weakness. _'Delicate'_ might be too much of an embelishment on the topic; in and on itself, the word felt like a semblance of weakness, and while true to the fact (too much so), it also made it seem like a _personal_ fault, and he didn't like that.

So let's not use that term.

Although it wasn't hard to imagine that a conventional - or any - show of affection would be... _complicated,_ to put it generously (and definitely to put it in better terms than 'delicate')... in the Shinra family, that did not mean it didn't cross Rufus' mind sporadically throughout his early years, mostly up around until his thirteenth, fourteenth birthday. Yes, while he was aware of how spending a mere second thinking on such an idiotic thing was, as said before, a downright sign of weakness, he could also rationally look back and give some liniency to a five, or seven, or ten year old for thinking _'I want to be held'_. Even if that child was himself.

Rufus frowned, annoyed.

It _wasn't_ worth it. It was idiotic. Thankfully, it wasn't an intention, a wish, or words he expressed outloud. Shamefully, he _had_ wanted to, several times in those childhood days, but ultimately felt too scared to do it. After all, he knew innately, without anyone telling him, that those thoughts, wishes and most certainly those words were not to be felt, and most certainly not said.

_'A hug doesn't seem so bad.'_

What was kind of funny - in that frustrating way that only those stupid funny things could be - was the fact that he had, in those moments throughout the years, imagined his father's reaction to him saying something. Addressing the subject, bringing it up in any way. And no matter if he was five, seven, ten, or fourteen like he was now, wasting time thinking about this, the reaction he pictured didn't change: there would be no liniency given to a child or a teenager for being precisely that. No, Rufus knew Father would laugh, sneer him, regardless of the fact that even innate things like that could be questioned by children, and brush him off with some variation of ridicule speech that would be summed in: _'Stop being so weak.'_

What was kind of funny was how he _knew_ that by backing down and trying to pretend he wasn't thinking it was _also_ a weakness in Father's eyes. So, whichever scenario he imagined, whether he acted or not, Father would still win and he'd still hear his voice all the same: _'Stop being so weak.'_

Rufus breathed out slowly but audibly through his nose. He was still frowning.

The complications of the act of being touched were innate for simple reasons, summed up into a single one: he was Rufus Shinra. Anyone who might get close to him would have second intentions - promotions, blackmailing, awe, disgust, work duty, political stand. Future President of the world's ruling company, sole legitimate heir to President Shinra. Being born with that title, with that legacy, to that family, meant many things were to be expected. Having someone touch him, hug him, show him a physical sign of sincere affection, was not one of them. It hardly would've made sense at all.

That was why it was innate knowledge. Father never had to tell him _'Bodyguards are only to touch you if your life is in danger'_ , or _'People will try to deceive you for their personal gain and profit'_ , or _'A stranger breaching crowds and trying to touch you might be an assassin'_. Rufus knew. Father never had to tell him _'All the love I could ever express for you is the fact you are my heir. I made an empire you may earn'_. _'I won't hug you because that's weakness. What's a simple touch compared to what I've built'._ He knew.

Even as a teenager, at the full (assumed) maturity and height of his fourteen years of age, fully equipped with knowledge no one had ever needed to explain to him because it had been the very foundation he'd been born and raised on, Rufus frowned in annoyance at how something so simple, so nonsensical, nagged him so much.

They had been standing on the one of the balconies on the upper floors overlooking the entrance lobby, which was brimming with Shinra employers and their families. Offsprings. It was a complete abnormal day of work, and it resembled more a highly expensive private party than an enterprise environment. And the current source for all those stupid thoughts was that abnormal sight, of parents with their children of different ages, none older than Rufus himself; in particular, one pair of father and son. The child, a four year old at best judging by the clear speech impediment it had, had been so noisy he had caught Rufus' attention all the way from the top of the balcony, screeching as he sprint away from his mother's hand and jumped to his father's arms, squeezing the man so tightly it might have been years since they'd last seen each other. And the man, an adult who knew he had seen his son earlier that morning and clearly of enough wit to work at Shinra, hugged the child back just as tightly, with the biggest of smiles on his face. Genuine.

They seemed happy.

Disproportionately happy.

"Why do we have this 'take your children to work' day?" Rufus asked, for once sounding just as annoyed as he actually felt.

"It's important to keep employers motivated," Father replied nonchalantly. He was surveying the bulk of Shinra workers beneath them, and didn't look at Rufus as he addressed him. "Working for us is not only an honour, it's a lifelong investment. By nurturing this policy, we will shape and cultivate future Shinra employers. That's what success is. Making sure the people who work for you are loyal, that loyalty is well remunerated in several ways. Reminding them it's only in their best interest to work better every day, and that they should feel proud of it. They will, in turn, help the company grow continuously."

Rufus looked down at the employer hugging the boy and holding him on his arms as he walked around, pointing to different things and presumably explaining what they were. Their closeness was completely foreign, but they seemed so comfortable. It didn't seem so bad. It didn't seem bad at all, actually.

"That's ridiculous."

"Nonsense. These children are the future Shinra. One day, they will be the parents bringing their own children to see their work place, and you may be the one surpervising them, if you earn my company. After all, it's not a given they will be suitable for Shinra. It takes a certain fiber for that."

Rufus turned his head to his father. "Are you comparing me to offsprings of employers?"

Father scoffed not too covertly. "Am I the one comparing myself to them?"

The words were as simple as they were effective in leaving Rufus stunned. He felt all answers - lies - dry in his throat, feeling like the frustration was making him blush. _'I'm so obvious. I'm an idiot.'_ He snapped his head back down, although now he wanted to look at those people even less. Father didn't press on, didn't need to humiliate him further when he could do it so simply, so effortlessly.

There it was, innate, without anyone having to tell him. _'Stop being so weak.'_

.

the end

.

**Author's Note:**

> Rufus is a teenager here, and I did want to focus more on the emotional rollercoaster and confusion that's easier dealt with anger. He's layered enough as it is, but growing up to becoming an adult would've layered him even more.
> 
> I've been wanting to write Rufus for years. Interestingly enough, my first idea was prompted by completely opposite feelings than the ones that prompted this story.
> 
> Things haven't been easy, not gonna lie.
> 
> Thanks for reading, corrections to English and reviews are welcomed. Disclaimer at the end but obviously don't own Final Fantasy VII.


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